The Warrior's Ballad

Chapter 116

Translator: WilliaRain was falling steadily. The vegetation and ground became soaked, and it felt like hearts were soaked too.

Ricardt and his companions took shelter from the rain in the forest. Beneath a slightly concave spot under a broad, ledge-like rock that jutted out like an eave, they lit a fire.

When it rained, moisture could cause sprouts to form, so vegetables like potatoes or carrots had to be eaten quickly. So they grilled everything they could and ate it.

Elia and Beka quietly did needlework, Ricardt and his friend quietly maintained their swords, Bremen quietly watched the rain, and Roy simply remained quietly silent.

Regrettably, they were no longer the Hartmann family. The only man left among them was Roy.

A rather heavy silence hung in the air, yet Hartmann's wife and children did not drown in sorrow. They were strong, but more than that, they simply didn’t have the luxury of time for grief.

Life went on, and reality was harsh by nature.

Still, that didn’t mean his death was without meaning. It had affected everyone who knew him in one way or another and left something behind.

The sound of falling rain, and the crackling of the campfire, filled the space where he no longer was.

Then, suddenly, Elia, who had been sewing, opened her mouth.

“I was fifteen. One morning I woke up and found an unfamiliar flower on the windowsill. Bright red petals with yellow stamens. When I asked my mother, she told me it was a camellia.”

It sounded like a tale from the past, and everyone listened to her words.

“That cold winter, without missing a single day, every morning a camellia was placed on the windowsill. I was curious about who was leaving the flower, so I tried staying up all night to catch them, but I always failed. Whenever I woke up, as always, the camellia would be there on the windowsill.”

“Was it your father who brought them?”

Beka asked, her eyes lighting up. But the answer was unexpected.

“No. Mom was popular with the neighborhood boys when she was young. The camellias weren’t from just one person. It was more like a village tradition of expressing affection.”

“......What.”

“But the only one who didn’t bring me flowers was your father. That’s what piqued my curiosity. I was the one who expressed my feelings first. When the camellias fell and bore fruit, I pressed oil from them. I gave that to your father."

“Is it a trend these days for girls to confess first? She confessed to him, too. You probably got rejected several times, right?"

Suddenly, Bori spoke. Then Marie’s face turned bright red, and she glared at Bori like she was going to kill him.

“Why are you bringing that up now?”

“Well, I was just reminded while listening……”

Marie, overwhelmed with embarrassment, lunged at Bori like she was about to tear him apart. Ricardt hurriedly intervened.

“But now, teacher treats you well, doesn’t he? Right?”

Elia said to Marie. Though the journey to get there had been rough, after they got together, Ricardt genuinely cherished and loved Marie.

That much was clear to anyone watching them travel together. Outwardly they seemed like friends, but if you looked deeper, you could feel their deep affection.

Elia then spoke again, this time to Roy.

“Your father gave me everything. He devoted everything to me. On the day the bandits attacked the village, he protected me instead of the family. That’s why I was happy no matter what hardships I faced with him. He was the best man. And the best man always has the best woman by his side. I hope you’ll become the best man too, Roy.”

Whether calling herself the best woman was half in jest or not, Elia raised her eyebrows with a smile as she said that part.

Was she trying to show a bright face to her child despite her grief, or was it that she had buried the sorrow in her heart and was now trying to move forward positively?

“Roy, defending the friend who framed you might not have been the wisest choice, but I don’t resent you for it. The path of righteous belief is always hard. I’ll always support you. No matter what happens, I’m on my son’s side. Because Roy, someday you’ll be the best man like your father, and a fine man like your teacher.”

She might not have been the best woman, but she surely was the best mother.

Roy did not cry. He only bowed his head, as if lost in thought, or perhaps making a resolution.

“Thank you, Mother.”

The boy who had lost his father seemed to have changed somehow. He looked deep in thought and resembled his quiet father in some ways.

Rain was falling. Hearts were soaked, too. But it was not miserable. The living remembered the dead and accepted the life that remained.

After the rain stopped, the group departed once again. The Eastern Frontier was now a single, clear goal. It seemed as though there was a resolve that, if salvation could not be found there, he would create salvation with his own hands.

Roy now carried the heavy burden once shouldered by his father. Though ten years old and clearly struggling, he adamantly refused Ricardt’s offer to carry it for him and bore it himself.

What Ricardt could do was allow for frequent breaks, and think about how best to teach axe-wielding going forward.

Roy preferred the axe over the sword. While part of it was to carry on his father’s will, surprisingly, it was also because he showed remarkable talent.

Axes, being practical everyday tools, were familiar to many, but using them in actual combat was far from easy.

That was because the striking area was quite limited, and a missed swing could prove fatal.

Yet Roy handled the axe extremely well. Not only were his strikes accurate, but even when they missed, he naturally used techniques like pulling, twisting, and leveraging centrifugal force, with no awkwardness at all.

The bursts of power he occasionally demonstrated were impressive enough that even though he was a child, they couldn’t be dismissed.

Had it been another teacher, they might have scolded, stopped, or given up on a disciple who chose a weapon other than the sword. But Ricardt was not like that.

Just as with Bori, Ricardt was quick to grasp the essence of things, even when he didn’t understand them at first.

In truth, Bori’s early swordsmanship, which looked more like writing characters than actual combat, had been bizarre enough that any ordinary teacher would’ve told him to stop.

But Ricardt had actively encouraged it, and helped Bori find his own path. Roy’s case was similar.

Whether it was a sword or an axe, the ultimate goal was the same: to fight and kill the enemy. Just as swords had pros and cons, so did axes.

Come to think of it, if Roy reached mastery, would he become an Axe Master instead of a Sword Master? Had there ever been such a case?

“If you cross that ridge, it’s the way to Adelivari. After resupplying there, it’ll take about a week’s journey to reach Torveil. That’s the gateway to the Eastern Frontier. We’ll decide whether to head straight to Torveil or split up the journey once we get to Adelivari. Let’s get a sense of the situation in the area too.”

While Ricardt was lost in thought, Bremen pointed to a distant ridge as he spoke.

Rather than a ridge, it looked more like a gorge, but from where they stood, it was an uphill path.

Beside the ridge was a steep rock formation that rose vertically with a flat top. Even the terrain itself felt different from the rest of the Empire. Though that was typical of the Pasina region.

It was just as they were about to exit the forest. There was a rustling nearby, and they thought it might be a wild animal. But what emerged from the bushes was, to their surprise, a green-skinned dwarf.

About waist-high to an adult, with sharp teeth, pointy ears, and blood-red eyes. It was a goblin.

The group, upon seeing the goblin, wasn’t so much shocked as dumbfounded. It was a creature unlike any ordinary beast, truly a monster, and they stared with expressions that said, “What is that?”

“Kyieeek!”

The one who was actually more startled was the goblin, who let out a shrill, unpleasant screech and quickly fled back into the forest. In its haste, it ran on all fours.

“Did you see that?”

Bori asked his friends, looking around. Though it was obvious that anyone with eyes had seen it, he seemed to want to share his astonishment.

“Wandering goblins are occasionally spotted. I don’t think there’s anything to worry about.”

Bremen said, seemingly trying to reassure them.

But Ricardt felt differently. He had often seen monsters during the time when the Eastern Frontier was still called the Eastern Expedition Territory. So he had some understanding of monster behavior.

The barbarians had even once tamed trolls and used them in battle. But that “taming” wasn’t just luring them with food or beating them, it was beyond that.

They captured young trolls and drove thick iron spikes into their bodies, fixed iron masks to their faces, or cut off their arms and attached chains, taming a troll required more than prolonged torture. It took something far beyond that, over a long time, to finally control them.

In any case, as far as Ricardt was concerned, encountering a goblin was no ordinary matter.

“No, we have to wipe them out when only one or two appear. Like ants or cockroaches. Once they start forming a group and settling down in one place, they’ll become untouchable.”

Taken individually, goblins were nothing remarkable. They were less threatening than wolves, hardly deserving of being called monsters.

However, once they dug into the ground and formed groups, eventually establishing kingdoms of their own, no human force could exterminate them.

They usually settled in forests, which made terrain a challenge, and though their weapons were crude, they were deadly and they knew how to handle poison, making them extremely dangerous.

In short, once they took root, that land became unusable for humans.

“But there’s nothing we can do about it right now. Isn’t it because the world’s in such chaos that things like that start creeping in?”

Bremen said with a tone of resignation.

Bitter as it was, he was right. Who these days would spend their own money and their own army to hunt down monsters? People were too busy protecting themselves.

“We’ll pay a bigger price later.”

Ricardt said, then silently continued walking.

After a hard climb to the ridge, a breathtaking view unfolded before them. Mountain ranges stretched out in parallel to the northwest and southwest, with a plain nestled in between them. It looked like a road crafted by the gods.

The plain between the mountains wasn’t particularly narrow, and many streams flowing down from the mountains converged into one mighty river, surging forward with strength.

Moreover, with the rain from the day before still lingering and glistening under the sunlight, the entire world sparkled. The scene was dizzyingly beautiful.

But as magnificent as nature appeared, a closer look revealed a grim reality. There were fortresses on every mountain peak. Even from this distance, they could already see three different flags.

This meant that each peak had its own ruler and, by extension, that they would have to pay separate 'tolls' to pass through each one.

“They are former soldiers of the border lords of Adeloron. I know a few of them, so let’s go to them first.”

Bremen said.

The wide plain that stretched like a God's road was the borderland of the Adeloron Kingdom.

Adeloron had been in a state of civil war for years since the peasant uprising. According to rumors, more than half the kingdom’s population had died.

There were no official statistics, so the exact scale of the damage was unknown, but since everyone referred to it as a living hell, it didn’t seem exaggerated.

Including the refugees, it was questionable whether there were even any people left in the kingdom at all.

Mercenaries had gathered from across the Empire, and with no notable strategy or tactics, no figure with leadership to guide the people, and the Empire remaining indifferent, they simply killed, were killed, and pillaged until things deteriorated to this point.

Now, even if one wanted to plunder more, there was nothing left to take. They had even dug up graves and taken everything, gold teeth, rings, everything.

In any case, the group followed Bremen. Instead of taking the easier path, they walked along the ridge. The easy road was more dangerous, after all.

As they followed the ridge, they arrived at a fortress where a black flag with a wolf emblem fluttered. A temporary gate blocked the road, guarded by soldiers with spears.

As the group approached, the guards didn’t respond aggressively, but simply watched quietly from atop the palisade.

Bremen stepped forward and called out.

“I served in the Crown Mercenary Corps twenty years ago! I fought in the Battle of Lacona and have come to see an old comrade, please open the gate!”

At that, one of the soldiers who had been quietly observing from the palisade disappeared somewhere.

Before long, a veteran soldier with deep wrinkles climbed up to the palisade. After scanning the group, he immediately recognized Bremen.

With a wide grin, he said,

“Eh-hey, Bremen, you fool, around here if you say the word ‘mercenary’ carelessly, you might end up dead. Hey, open the gate.”

At the veteran’s word, the gate opened. The group hesitated for a moment, wondering if this was really okay, but entered the fortress nonetheless.

Inside, things were more organized than expected. For something hastily put together by human hands, the tactical layout was quite impressive.

The soldiers weren’t exactly under strict discipline, but their eyes alone set them apart from ordinary bandits.

Bremen and the veteran embraced with laughter and exchanged a few blunt words of greeting.

“Still working as a guide?”

“I told you, I don’t know what else to do with my life now.”

“We told you we’d take you in.”

“Fighting at my age is ridiculous. I’d just drag the younger soldiers down.”

“There’s no real fighting. We just collect tolls and chase away strangers.”

Still seeming reluctant, Bremen gave a sheepish smile and shook his head. The veteran didn’t press further.

“By the way, did you come through Pasina?”

“That’s right.”

“Then have you heard the rumors? The Rector Mercenary Corps got completely wrecked by three Sword Masters. Is it true? Heard anything like that?”

The Rector Mercenary Corps was the very group the Rubens Clan had hired. Strangely, the news of the mercenary corps being defeated had spread more widely than the Rubens Clan being annihilated.

The fall of the Rubens Clan remained a near-mysterious incident, but the mercenary corps being repelled was more widely known because many survived and it was an astonishing event.

Common sense said it was absurd for only three people to fight an entire mercenary corps. Even if they were Sword Masters, swordplay and real combat were two very different things.

No matter how strong a shark is in the sea, on land it’s powerless - just like that, the effectiveness of combat depended entirely on the type of battle, the battlefield situation, and the environment.

About four years ago, one of the two Sword Masters dispatched by the Empire had been killed by an arrow, and the other never even joined the battle and fled instead.

So while everyone knew Sword Masters were great, many remained skeptical about whether they were actually useful in real battle.

In the end, battle was about groups and organization, and people would use every possible method to win.

It wasn’t a fair duel of sword against sword, but a brutal contest involving castle walls, bows and crossbows, spears, knights, and all sorts of cowardly methods, such was the nature of real combat.

Above all, in the deafening chaos of a battlefield, it was hard for an individual to shine relying on swordsmanship alone.

Even a Sword Master, if used poorly tactically, was little more than a skilled infantryman.

At the words of his old comrade, Bremen looked back at Ricardt, Marie, and Bori. Naturally, the veteran’s gaze followed and turned toward Ricardt.

No one said a word. A brief silence fell. Then the veteran smirked and said,

"Ah, lies."

There were two meanings behind that statement. Was it really true that just three people defeated the Rector Mercenary Corps? Or, did such an event really happen, and were the very people standing in front of him the ones who did it?

It would be nice if they greeted each other, but the silence continued.

“Hey now, I said don’t lie.”

Ricardt, Marie, and Bori hadn’t said a word, yet they were treated as liars.

****